


What is a Man

by creepstakes



Category: Castlevania: Lords of Shadow, Castlevania: Lords of Shadow 2, 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Incest, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-14 13:09:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1267627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepstakes/pseuds/creepstakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall of Satan, Dracula and Alucard are left with two questions; did Victor have a son and what were they to do now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After having played the game through I was seized with the need to see these two together. They are such badasses in their own right and oh man, I've always wanted a more fleshed out Dracula and here we go.

Dracula shook his head as he made his way to the throne, dark hair swaying and falling against his coat. After retreating inside, they had come here, shying from direct contact from the sun. Here it was cool and dark, safe. “Will you stay with me?” Dracula asked as he took the steps to dais slowly. His throne was grey with dust, threadbare. He hadn’t sat in it in centuries. He turned, surveying the dark room. The pillars still stood, dark marble dull and lacking the lustre they had once had, the walls and ornate ceiling covered in cobwebs.

Alucard stood by the door, lit by a cluster of candles on the floor, oozing wax onto the carpet that ran from the door to the base of the dais, arms by his sides. He was so pale, and the blood on his chin and throat, Dracula’s own blood, was as dark as his strange armour and it made Dracula’s heart swell a little to see it there.

That, at least, he could give to his son always. His blood. His life.

Alucard’s expression was blank. Yellow eyes shining, a bead of colour against the utter black of his sclera and the shadows cast by the candles. “Victor may have had a wife,” he warned, blinking lazily.

“And what?” Dracula asked, turning his palms up. “You think he'll come for me; this son he may have had without his knowing?” Though, it would be just like the Brotherhood of Light to hide yet another child from their father. To play with fate and watch it echo forever on into the centuries.

Alucard's hair shielded his face from view as he turned his head to gaze at a rusted suit of armour by his side. The bones inside it were bleached, still the perfect imitation of a man. A spider crawled from its eye socket, waving legs in the air. “Perhaps. It is the destiny of the Belmonts.”

Staring at his son, Dracula felt his heart clench a little. Sighing, he let himself sink into his throne. The sun was rising and though he was powerful once again it had been a long night. Long enough to span centuries and what felt like an age before that. It had started the moment the human that had lay dying before him had called him father, and Dracula had realised that the man was the son his wife had hidden away at the behest of Brotherhood of Light.

“Would you fight by his side?” Dracula asked, bringing a hand up and propping his cheek against his fist, long nails pressed against his palm. “This phantom son?”

Alucard turned back to him, white hair sliding away. So much more handsome now as a child of darkness than that of light. The vampire said nothing though, only surveyed the throne room and then himself, the armour he wore. After a long moment he started to pull at the gauntlets of his futuristic suit of armour and the black shining metal fell to the marble floor with loud, deep thuds. Marble chipped beneath their weight and Dracula’s lip curled a little. “I’m tired,” Alucard breathed, and wiped at the blood on his chin with a now-bare hand, brought it to his lips and sucked his fingers clean.

Something in Dracula was pleased at the sight.

“Stay then,” Dracula said, watching as Alucard continued dismantling his armour, rerebrace and breast plate next. They fell to the floor beside his gauntlets equally as loud. He wore a white shirt not of the current century beneath it and the blood reached his chest too. Stained his pale skin red and the white of his shirt black.

“For a while,” Alucard agreed, tilting his head slightly. He looked up and Dracula was treated to those eyes once again. Beautiful, but so wrong; a vampire of his making should not have had such eyes.

“Father.” Alucard lowered his head a moment in something of a bow, then took his leave.

He left Dracula, Gabriel, to the cool darkness of his throne room. To the wind howling and the faint sound of city life awakening all around him.

Dracula closed his eyes and rested.

 

 

 

Alucard spent the next two days exploring what remained of the old Bernhard castle. There were corpses in every corner, and many of the doorways required blood tribute to be opened. He let those doors be, passing them by for far more habitable quarters. Creatures scurried here and there, and they recognised him for who and what he was, bowed and said ‘Milord,’ asking if he needed anything before scurrying off. He declined them each time, preferring to explore on his own.

He’d been here before, several times, but never after he’d entered Zobek’s service. Only in the months after laying his father in the crypt by the centre tower’s throne room and ensuring the Crissaegrim would not move from its place in Dracula’s heart until he was ready to pull it free.

It took him until noon on the third day to find a room suitable for bathing. The tub was in the middle of the room, made of white ivory and had golden clawed feet. There was a dumbwaiter that, when he pulled on the chain one of the servants of his father filled several buckets with water, and sent up to him. He dumped the buckets of water into the tub, repeated the process of calling for water until it was full.

Shortly after the tub was full a creature appeared with towels and fresh clothes. Careful to not let the spines on its fingers tear the cloth, it set the items on an ornate chair by a window that had been stained black. The window filtered the sunlight until all that remained was the faint tingle against Alucard’s skin. The light it gave supplemented the candles the creature lit before it left.

Alucard divested himself of what remained of his armour and stepped into the tub, sank down with a sigh. The water turned black with blood and grime within a matter of minutes, yet still Alucard couldn’t get the taste of his father’s blood from his mouth, or the faint red stain from his chin and throat.

He fell asleep there and woke some time later when the candles had burned out and he was left in darkness. The window glowed dimly with the faint, pure white light of the moon.

He pulled himself from the tub, smelling the faint scent of blood that remained in the water and feeling the familiar hunger inside him, he ignored it. It was an old and vicious hunger, one that could be eased but not rid of completely. His father’s blood running through him now, the first blood he’d ever taken and it was only making it worse.

Alucard dried himself, brushed his hair, and clothed himself in the clothing provided, then called to him his more familiar with a rush of blood and sordid magic that came with his lineage. His gold accented green overcoat and armour returned to him. It had taken a long, long time to come to terms with such a talent, to acknowledge that he was only able to use such powers, or be recognised by the servants of this castle because he was the son of Dracula. And a vampire.

Trevor Belmont no longer. Human servant of the light no longer.

God had chosen this path for him, just as He had chosen Gabriel’s path. And because of his blood, their blood, Dracula had become cruller after his human death. Sworn vengeance against those they had served in life.

Alucard could be content with that, in a way. He had found ways to compromise and live comfortably enough within his own morals. It hurt, denying himself the blood, but he would not take innocent lives, and his father, he’d seen, would not if he could help it either.

He understood Dracula in death, as Alucard, in ways he did not as Trevor.

He left the bathing room, sought his father out, sabatons making his foot falls loud against the stone hallways. Servants bowed as he passed them, and several seemed to be acting under orders of Dracula, tidying the castle, cleaning away rubble and centuries of dust.

He eventually found him in the centre spire throne room, staring out the large shattered window. It would have been beautiful in its youth, that window. Colourful as a meadow and the expansive sky itself. The design might have been a saint once, but now it held only fractured remains mounted around the stone lip of the window itself. It was enormous.

Dracula stood in the patch of moonlight before it, staring down at the city, listening to the distant wail of sirens and hum of human voices.

Alucard paused by his side, watched the city with him. They shared a companionable silence for a long time, and then Dracula spoke. “It’s changed so much in the past thousand years.”

He looked over at Alucard then, and his eyes lingered on Alucard’s damp hair, his clothes. Smiled softly and then seemed to freeze, eyes lighting with realisation.

Alucard watched, waited patiently.

“Was that the first time you have fed?” Dracula asked, reaching for Alucard’s white hair, so similar to his own, to how it had been when he’d woken after his long sleep. It was the colour of sickness. Of ill health.

Alucard dropped his eyes. The other vampire’s claws passed through his long hair, scraped against his collarbone.

“Yes,” Alucard admitted. Dracula's red eyes trailed over his collarbone and down his chest. His skin was so much paler than his father’s, whose skin was flushed and almost pink with the blood of their enemies. He was so, so much more powerful than he. Alucard could almost feel it like a weight pressing down on him.

Dracula closed his eyes, seemed to sink into himself. There was regret there. Guilt at Alucard’s pain.

“I won’t hunt them. The humans,” Alucard admitted, watching his father as he slowly opened his eyes. There it was; the pain and regret, the soul reason Alucard remained with Dracula. He remained with his father, though he knew the Vampire Killer was down there somewhere, and should be preserved. His father had his reasons. “I know you have trouble too. You thought about killing Zobek for putting that family in that room with you, making you kill them. But my presence gave you second thought.”

Dracula smiled wryly. “Yes,” he said, and his hand left Alucard’s hair and settled on his shoulder.  “They were innocents. Had no place there, in that room with me."

Alucard smiled gently in return.

"Drink from me then.” Dracula’s red eyes gleamed in the moonlight.

Alucard startled a little. “What?”

Holding his gaze, the hand on Alucard’s shoulder squeezed lightly. “You must be so weak. Hungry. I know that feeling. Your hair is white and your skin… Your eyes...” Dracula frowned a little, reached up. His hand hovered by Alucard's cheek a moment.

Alucard closed his eyes and lowered his head a little as Dracula cupped his cheek, swiped his thumb under Aucard’s eye. Coaxed him to open it again, to lift his head.

“You’ve been living on old blood. Dead blood, it has damaged you. These scars,” he said, tracing down the bridge of Alucard’s nose, over his cheek and jaw. “These scars shouldn’t exist. I created you to be...”

He paused, and stared at Alucard. Seemed to drink in the moonlight, absorb its light a black hole.

A tremor went through Alucard at the sight, at the weight of Dracula’s power. he fought the urge to press his face against Dracula’s hand on his cheek. To part his lips and moan. He wanted to sink to his knees, to live in the grace of the master’s touch and blessing—

Alucard pulled himself out of it. Out of the hivemind Dracula’s powers encouraged. That same pull of subservience was the pull that kept all the creatures of evil that remained in this castle alive and loyal to him. He would not fall under that spell.

Dracula seemed to realise it, but didn't back down, didn't remove his hand from Alucard's cheek or restrain his presence. That alone was proof of how deep his evil went.

But he was Alucard’s father, his blood. His only relative, as far as he knew.

"You would give me your blood. Again,” Alucard said, and his voice sounded quiet to his own ears.

Dracula smiled. “Yes. You don’t have the heart for this, Alucard. Evil is not that deep in you yet, that you would drink the blood of those that are innocent, those who do not willingly give it to you.”

Alucard swallowed thickly. The hunger returned again. Made his teeth ache.

“And we would do this, forever? Me drinking from you,” Alucard said, trembling. "You drinking from them for me?" 

Dracula caressed his cheek again, pulled him closer and he went dazedly. “Until we discover if Victor had a son and you leave to aid him. Yes.”

Alucard took a shaky breath, revelled in the feel of his father's arm circling his back, keeping him close. He wanted that, wanted his blood. Wanted…wanted his love. “Father,” he said, gazing into Dracula’s eyes and feeling that pull again; subservience and the glory of the prince of darkness, the Dragon.

“Drink, Trevor,” Dracula said softly, tilting his head to the side.

Alucard moaned and bared his teeth, couldn’t help the eager hiss that escaped him as he pushed Dracula's hair back, sank his teeth into his neck violently. The blood swelled and poured down past his lips and over his tongue. Losing his control, Alucard bit again to widen the fount, and again to widen it further. He sucked greedily, moaning, clutching at his father’s shoulders.

Heat and life flowed into him, and the hunger slowly eased as the blood didn't seem to stop coming. Only an endless supply that made him feel light headed, dizzy and so, so very full. So content.

He released his father’s neck only when he felt his hand thread through his hair, and claws scraped against his scalp, sending shivers through him. Dracula tipped his head back and Alucard allowed it, staring at the ornate arches far above them as his father licked the blood from his chin and lips.

Alucard took hold of him without thinking, held Dracula’s head still as he pressed his lips to his. Bloody tongue sliding against Dracula’s lips and then Dracula’s own tongue as they kissed hungrily, bloodlust rising in them both. 

And then everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now plot. Kind of.
> 
> Echidna, according to some books I have, is the mother of Stheno, Euryale and Medusa (debatable on Medusa's part, sometimes she was human before and not simply born a gorgon). She also birthed Cerberus, the three headed dog who guards Hade's gates. Here, since Castlevania lore states Stheno, Euryale and Medusa wandered down into the castle dungeons on their own, she is simply a caretaker of the damned and succubi.
> 
> One more chapter to go. I'm still deciding if I want to have this be a happy ending or not.

Alucard startled awake. The canopy of the bed he lay in was a fresh, deep crimson. Alucard couldn’t remember if it was the colour he used to see when he closed his eyes and turned his head to the sun or not. For all modern inventions, no television had been able to capture such a simple thing just yet. Maybe never.

Candles lit the room, and the flames dancing on the wicks crackled quietly. The soft sound of another coming to life drew his attention.  There was a woman by the door with a long stick, and she was moving from candle to candle, lighting them. Calling her a woman was perhaps presumptuous. She was female. The rest of her seemed consumed by thick hide and scales, and she moved about with an almost confusing blend of blunder and grace. Muscles gave and others engaged, making what could have been a fall a graceful step to the side to better reach more of the candles that lined the massive, wood and iron door.

Alucard looked up then, around the room. It was by far the most ornate of all the rooms he’d seen since spending his time investigating after defeating Satan. The bed itself seemed to be the centre piece of a large work of art carved from marble, stone and gold. The walls themselves were lined with windows inlaid with the same stained glass that made moving about in daylight possible. Curtains covered them now, though haphazardly, and many were torn and rotting.

Alucard watched the female a while longer and then sat up slowly, yet still the movement startled her, and she made a sound like a shriek  and jumped, turned to face him. She recovered quickly on seeing him though and fell to her knees. Bowed, lowering her head. “Milord,” she said, voice sweet as a bell despite her appearance seeming so tortured. “We weren’t expecting you to wake for some time.”

“We?” Alucard asked. He appeared to be naked, had been covered in a thin sheet that seemed more for modesty’s sake than any other. Such a thing was useless in his current state of unlife. Creatures of death did not feel the cold. Only Dracula’s sword that dripped ice and steam could elicit a response, as biting in its coldness as the press of fangs.

He rubbed the fabric between his fingers, careful of his nails. It was silk, maybe a high thread count cotton. Smooth against his skin.

The female lowered her head further and it returned his attention to her. “King Dracula, milord. He thought that you would sleep for several more days at least. Had hoped to move you to your own chambers by then.”

“ _King_?” Alucard asked, something in him shaken by the new title.

“Milord has defeated Satan,” the woman said, head rising just a little. She spoke as if that need be reason enough.

Alucard swallowed thickly. It was, for once, not painful. His father’s blood had eased such an action of habit.

“Look at me,” he said, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed, sheet sliding from him.

She raised her head and met his gaze, seemingly uninterested in his nudity. Her eyes were like those of a goat; the pupils were strange. She perhaps thought him no more naked than a cat. “Is that why all of you are here? Several of you turned against him.”

She tilted her head. “Ah. Yes. But your father killed them all. Killed the blood inside him that fought against his… _free will_ against the curse. Then he destroyed those who contested his reign that lingered to that same sense of hope. Many had been imprisoned beneath… They are one with the damned. His Majesty’s army swells again.”

Silence fell and Alucard looked away, to the wall and the faint shadows of pigeons passing by what he could see of the windows. Hid his face behind his hair as he winced.

Defeating Satan had saved them all from one evil, but Dracula still remained, and he’d taken all of Satan’s armies into his own kingdom. Killed those who did not support him fully, even those controlled by his own subconsciousness and cursed blood.

Dracula had been right. Alucard would have to kill him eventually. He needed to see if Victor had a wife, had a child. Needed to see if the Belmonts would live on despite this, or if Alucard would need to seek out new allies. He could not defeat his father alone. Could not give him the true death, and an honourable one, the one Dracula truly desired.

He needed the Brotherhood of Light.

“Where is he?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes to disperse the sting in them. Shame was such a familiar emotion. He imagined his mother would be weeping in Heaven for his father’s continued existence and the curse that drove him forever on, the dragon’s heart inside him that made him covet and hate all that encroached upon what he saw as his.

This city would surely burn as Dracula retook his castle. The city itself _was_ his castle and there were millions of people living in it now.

“He is watching, milord,” the woman answered. Her concern lingered in her tone of voice. “Milord?”

Alucard shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, waving a hand at her dismissively. “This is all news to me. Satan was defeated not but a week ago and…”

And Hell was still rising to Earth, only its master wore a new name. Dracula was a Lord of Shadow no more, but a King and his power could soon reach even God.

Alucard stood and turned to face her. She lowered her head again, eyes dropping. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Echidna,” she said. Her tongue was like that of a snakes. “I am my King’s servant.”

That gave him pause. “In all matters?”

She tilted her head but didn’t look up. “In matters of the castle and its reconstruction. The dishonoured vampires and guards care for the rest. I care for the inhabitants, the succubi answer to me, by his majesties’ order.”

Alucard lowered his head, looked down at himself, at his hands. The scars that had once marred them were gone. Silent for a long while he eventually tilted his head and then walked over to Echidna, lowered himself to one knee before her. He tipped her chin up, careful of his claws. “Are the scars on my face gone?”

Echidna’s eyes shifted, surveying. “There are no signs you were ever scarred, milord. But your eyes, your hair…”

“Sickness,” he answered, pulling his hand back. He smiled a little at her. “I will never allow myself to have red, clear eyes as he does. I drink only my father’s blood.”

Even if, apparently, he passed out after and could remember nothing past that moment but utter satisfaction. It still lingered now, the fullness, contentment. He was well. For now, at least. No hunger or pain for the first time in a thousand years.

There was that shame though, and yet he was…utterly unrepentant for that kiss. Morally deplorable as it was, he felt only shame for having buckled under the influence of the blood and his father’s power. The mere aura of Dracula’s power pressing down on him had been enough to make him suck on his own father’s tongue like a whore.

Echidna flushed then, and Alucard found it strange that her cheeks should redden at that and not his nudity. He tilted his head. Ultimately…she was a creature of the Damned. One from bellow, who had lived with Stheno, Euryale, and Medusa. She was, perhaps, the one the statue that had held the powers of Chaos for Dracula had been based on. What her true self looked like, Alucard was unsure he wanted to know.

She dropped her head, dark hair hiding her face. “If Milord has no further need of me, I shall take my leave.”

“How long have I been in this room?” he asked, before she could rise.

“A little over 27 hours, milord.”

Alucard nodded and rose, wandered over to the ornate chaise lounge by the bed with what looked like a shirt and pants on it. Beside it was a pitcher and basin, a cloth. Alucard wondered if Dracula would ever install plumbing to this place, or leave it as an echo of the past centuries. If he would rebuild the entirety of the castle or leave the city be, bar all the people in it.

“You may leave, then,” he said, and listened to her rise and depart, closing the door behind her.

Once people started dying, someone would come to stop Dracula. They always did.

 

 

 

 

‘Watching’ meant that Dracula was standing in the same place he had been the night before, surveying the city through the shattered window. He turned his head as Alucard approached, red eyes searching.

“You look better,” he said, turning to face Alucard with a sweep of his coat.

“What happened?” Alucard asked, holding a hand out to keep him from advancing. “I took your blood and then… I remember nothing.”

Dracula tilted his head, the corner of his lips pulled into a slight smile. “You called my name and then passed out. I took you to my chambers to let you rest.” He moved forward, ignoring Alucard’s hand, pushed it down as he came closer and cupped his face.

Ran a clawed thumb over where the scars would have been on his cheek.

“The scars have disappeared,” Dracula said gentle and clearly pleased. His eyes jumped up to Alucard’s. “Still your eyes are black. Though the irises are brighter. They glow gold…” Dracula fell silent for a moment, and as Alucard stared he felt like a child again, staring up into his mother’s caring eyes. He imagined this is what it would have felt like to have a caring father.

Dracula continued. “A thousand years and you didn’t drink blood. Now you have and you’ve taken mine. Mine that rips humans apart from the inside.”

Alucard swallowed thickly, eyes dropping to his father’s lips before sliding over to the throne by the window. The shame tugged at something inside his chest.  “You placed me in your chambers, did you not sleep?” Alucard asked, eyes returning to Dracula.

His father smiled wryly and dropped his hand from Alucard’s cheek, though he remained disconcertingly close. Close enough for Alucard, even dead as he was, to feel the chill emanating from him. Cold like the Void, even to him.

“Do you ever sleep?” Alucard pressed.

“Occasionally. I retire to my throne and wait. That is enough.”

“In all these years you’ve never slept?” he asked, frowning.

“Once,” Dracula allowed, tracing Alucard’s jawline. “In the past, in the years between your death and resurrection, there was only anger and vengeance.” Dracula dropped his eyes. “Now…”

Alucard, for all he despised what his father was, what he had made him, wanted to make Dracula’s life some small amount of comfortable. Wanted to appeal to the humanity in him, to give him something that Satan had never had. Love.

To defeat the dragon…

There had to be another way.

“Father…”

Dracula looked up at him again. “You want me to rest, don’t you Alucard? You want to give me love. You want to be my son, and yet Trevor died a long time ago. You are…. _not_ as I remember you. You are a boy no longer. _My_ boy no longer.”

Alucard swallowed thickly, throat drying up. Some part of his mind recognised the feeling that had snaked around him the night before. The dragon stood before him, gazing into him and Alucard’s mind trembled. The blood inside him ached. He wanted more, he wanted his father.

He wanted so very many things.

Even that. Even this man’s _love_ , the likes of which the Brotherhood of Light had taught to be scandalous. Though he’d had a wife, and his sweet son Simon, there was still the ache inside. The creature he was now, the person he was now, was not that man. The blood inside infected him, made him want truly horrible things.

Alucard’s mouth worked, and yet it took a while to form the words. “I am reborn a different man…”

Dracula held his gaze. The intensity and cautiousness thick and cloying. “We kissed before, after you took my blood. Do you remember that?”

The scratch of Dracula’s burgeoning beard against his mouth, the taste of blood, his father’s tongue sliding against his own. “Yes,” he breathed quietly, almost in a daze. Alucard remembered it well.

“And that’s what you want?”

“Until I give you your true death,” Alucard said, blinking and coming out of his daze a little. “ _Yes_ , that’s what I want.”

“Even though I am your father?” Dracula asked, frowning a little. There was no rejection there and that perhaps, the want to understand, was what made him so great in his evilness. Dracula would fall into all evil, even this.

Alucard closed his eyes, dropped his head. “Once, you were my father,” he said, and shook his head, hair brushing against his cheeks. “But I never knew you, I have only ever known Dracula, and you are not as you once were.”

He raised his head, and Dracula raised his chin a little, looked at Alucard through guarded, yet curious eyes.

Alucard continued, “Now you are Dracul. You are the dragon, and I…cannot fight against what I am anymore. I am…a vampire of _your_ making. And so I must be that until I can find those who would fight with me to defeat you.”

Alucard reached up, pressed his hand to Dracula’s cheek, and ran his thumb over his lips.

They spent a moment staring, and outside it began to rain, water splashing inside the broken window a little. Droplets kissing Alucard’s bare feet and the leather of Dracula’s boots.

“Then say it,” Dracula said, expression unchanging. The moonlight only hit half of his face, and one of his eyes was glowing a deep, rich red. “You say you are not my son any longer and yet we are who we are. Our memories make us so.”

Alucard swallowed thickly. “Come rest. Put that bedchamber of yours to use. Have you ever stepped foot inside it before?”

“Once, as I said, to take you inside. Say it.”

“You said you had rested once before, did you lay beside me? Undress me? Was that you?” Alucard asked, heat rushing through him.

“ _Say it_ , Alucard.”

“Fuck me, King of Darkness.”

 

 

 

 

Dracula took hold of him and they were encased in a storm of dark and then weightlessness. Psychical form turned incomprehensible and Alucard had never felt anything like it in his life. They reformed inside Dracula’s bedchamber, the bed sheets still mussed from Alucard’s brief stay.

Alucard had a moment to survey the room and then Dracula was sliding fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling him close, bringing their mouths together in a kiss far needier than the one they had shared before. Dracula’s kiss was sweet, far hungrier than Alucard had anticipated. Spoke to the entire whole of him.

Desire swelled and Alucard pressed against Dracula, tugging at his arms so he could pull his father’s coat off, but it only made Dracula laugh.  He broke the kiss and Alucard moaned, wanting to chase after him. “Silly boy, you know better than that,” Dracula said, and reached for Alucard again, pushing him back towards the bed.

Dracula’s clothes simply disintegrated, the cursed blood taking the leather and steel and simply dissolving it in rush of blood and darkness. It left Dracula bare before him, vital and strong as the day he’d been when he taken Laura’s cursed blood. So unlike a woman, like anything Alucard had ever had experience with before, but he wanted him still. The power there was physically visible, rather than a mere metaphysical sensation pressing down on his shoulders. His cock swelled at the sight, and he went willingly, fixated on his father’s body as he was guided backwards towards the bed.

“I can’t think,” Alucard breathed, air leaving his lungs in a rush as Dracula pushed him down onto the bed.

“You’re a vampire, Alucard. It should be natural. Blood is _everything_. It sustains us and clothes us, gives us peace.”

“Momentary only,” Alucard said, and Dracula fisted a hand in the material of his shirt and simply pulled. Fabric tore, and Alucard was mesmerized by Dracula’s expression, the need and the way his eyes seemed to have their own inner light, a bright shining red.

Reaching up, he pulled Dracula down, wrapped around him as best he could, feeling his father’s cold chest against his own. He kissed him hungrily, and Dracula ground down against him, swallowed his pleasured moan with his hungry kiss. Devoured his mouth, made Alucard feel like he was laid completely bare.

Still Dracula pulled at his clothing, pushed his pants down off his hips and rocked against him again, bringing them together, cocks caught between them. Alucard’s head rocked back, breaking their kiss, and he moaned at the sensation.

“You haven’t had sex in a thousand years either, have you?” Dracula asked, lips against his ear as he rocked against Alucard. Alucard’s mouth worked, opened to speak but the words dissolved into a moan. He shook his head instead, and Dracula caressed his face, ran his fingers through his hair to lay the white length of it along the bed.

Dracula chuckled and lowered his head, licked and ran his teeth along Alucard’s neck and Alucard bucked up against him. Oh yes, yes he wanted those teeth in him.

“You’ve never been with a man either,” Dracula murmured, voice dark and hungry.

Again Alucard shook his head. “Bite me,” he pleaded, turning his head, gazing unseeing at the drawn curtains. Someone was in the room with them, moving about with lurching movements. Echinda, though, she appeared only briefly, set a little ornate pot down beside them and moved away into the shadows again. She was quick, quicker than he could see, like she had no form but he knew it was her. He could hear the door close behind her over Dracula’s chuckle.

“No,” he said, and pulled back, dark hair sliding along Alucard’s chest as he did.

“What?” he asked, looking back up at him.

“No, I will not bite you.” Dracula was dipping his fingers into that ornate pot, and they came back shining and slick. Alucard raised a leg, slid it over Dracula’s thigh.

“Why?” Alucard asked, panting out of habit.

Dracula raised his chin and his dark hair slid along his cheeks and throat. He brought his slick hand between them, pressed fingers against Alucard’s perineum, back further and then Alucard was arching and gasping as a finger pressed inside him. “You have little blood as is. Just drink mine, Alucard.”

Alucard writhed, bought a hand up above his head and tried to press down on Dracula’s fingers, but they moved at their own pace.

“What did the Brotherhood of Light tell you of sodomy?” Dracula asked, sounding almost conversational as he watching with glowing red eyes.

“Little,” Alucard managed, eyes wide, staring at the canopy above and breathing. Oh it felt so strange and yet his cock was hard and laying against his belly. He rolled his hips and moaned, yes that was better. Dracula’s fingers were brushing against something inside and the promise of pleasure there was delectable. “Sodom and Gomorrah were mentioned. I was never to be a paladin, though, had no wish to be so virtuous…”

Dracula took one of Alucard’s wrists and brought it down. Made him curl his fingers around himself and Alucard’s eyes closed as he gasped at the pleasure it brought. He slid his hand base to tip, speed controlled by Dracula’s hand on his wrist, and shook. Moaned.

“That’s it, my son,” Dracula encouraged, and Alucard whimpered as he slid another finger inside him. The stretch burned a little. He worked his cock a little harder to compensate. “They never told you of this, though,” Dracula continued, curling his fingers inside him. Alucard’s eyes flew wide and he arched back with a cry, pleasure running through him like a shock wave. Decimating his nerve endings.

“They take all that is good and ask you to deny it,” Dracula was saying, sounding so calm amidst the rush in Alucard’s ears. He couldn’t form the words to reply, the pleasure kept coming even through the ache of Dracula adding a third finger, working his fingers in and out, abusing that same place.

“I would have been denied the sight of you like this. Shaking and nigh mindless. Hair splayed out, you look like and angel, to me.”

Alucard groaned and managed to speak, “Dead…”

“So are the angels.”

Fingers against his black lips, and a hand caressed his face again. Dracula’s fingers drew out of him and the pleasure eased, left him feeling empty. Alucard wondered if that was how a woman felt, empty and aching, feeling the weight of so much power and presence pressing down on them.

“Look at me,” Dracula coaxed, and Alucard did.

Those red eyes were mesmerising, and Alucard stared, a little wide-eyed.

Dracula rolled his hips forward, and it hurt, but he was full again, so full. He cried out, reaching for Dracula, hands finding his shoulders and tangling in his hair as it feel there, clawed at the muscles of his back as Dracula surged forward.

He screamed as Dracula’s cock hit the place inside again.

“Drink,” Dracula ordered, voice thick as he bent turning his head.  

Alucard could hardly think, Dracula pulled back and rolled his hips forward again and he lost all thought, the pleasure was too great. Holding him close, he brought his face to his father’s neck and bit.

Blood swelled over his tongue and he bit again, eyes rolling back a little as his entire self-became nothing but sensations and the roiling taste of blood. So heady and strong. The world around them ceased to exist, there was only pleasure and Dracula’s deep moans as he fucked him.

Blood slid down Alucard’s chin to his cheek and chest, ran down his neck to stain his hair and the sheets red. The pleasure only heightened, got stronger and stronger and Alucard became messier and messier as he drank but he could not stop drinking.  

Complete bliss, complete satiation.

The roll of Dracula’s hips, each bloom of pleasure it brought, came to drum along with Dracula’s heart and when he came was impossible to tell. The drums stopped, and in their place was a cacophony of pleasure and he was screaming he was sure, lips and chin wet with blood and Dracula laughing against his neck.

He passed out again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've split the last chapter into two so there will be one more chapter with explicit content and the ending after this. 
> 
> I'm very, very sorry for the wait I know a lot of you were excited for more. I got horridly distracted with uni and a couple of other things. 
> 
> Thank you for being patient and commenting. It makes me happy and makes me want to write more and more.

It was hard, as time went by, to ignore the way the castle ruins the city was built on seemed to loom. More and more, Aucard could stand on the street across from Bernhard Cathedral and notice Dracula standing at the upper throneroom watching the city at night. He’d never allowed the creatures that did his bidding fix the large stained window. From street level one could see nothing but utter black inside, but if there was a breeze, a flash of lightning, there was red. Red eyes, a red coat.

Sometimes when Alucard returned from the city near dawn he’d feel the weight of his father’s gaze on him. Could feel the amusement that grew, more and more.

Dracula never told him why he kept vigil over the city, if it could even be called a vigil.

Dracula never told him anything at all.

He just stood there for hours on end, hands at his sides, eyes flitting from here to there. Watching.

Dracula merely watched the end to the martial law instilled by the city’s government after Bioquimek incident, whereas Alucard lived it, listened to the citizens talk as he walked amongst them, looking and listening for word of the Brotherhood.

No matter how far he walked, he could feel Dracula’s eye on him. Even when he wandered to the outer limits of the city.

Alucard would be lying if he said he didn’t find Dracula’s vigil unnerving.  

Once and only once when Alucard stood in the middle of the road leading out of the city did Dracula appear, eyes faint glowing lights in the grey of early morning.

“Are you thinking of leaving, son?” he’d asked, tilting his head a little. ‘Son’ had been used mockingly, though not unkindly. More and more Dracula seemed to like calling him so, some inner desires shining through, perhaps being born within him at Alucard’s insistence. Sin begat sin and this was the worst of it.

Alucard hadn’t taken his eyes off the road, hadn’t spoken, unsure of how best to reply, and then Dracula had only circled him, hand sliding around Alucard’s waist as he finally came to a stop before him and coaxed Alucard’s eyes to his own.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about, Alucard,” he’d murmured gently, eyes showing some small amount of pain.

The longer Alucard remained silent, the more emotion bled into Dracula.

“Please, Trevor,” he’d said eventually, cupping Alucard’s cheek.

“You turn your eyes to the City,” Alucard had said quietly, barely louder than a whisper. The fog was clearing as the sun began to rise. They wouldn’t have much time. “I turn my eyes to the people.”

To the Brotherhood and the humans.

Dracula isolated himself from them, surrounded himself with his monstrous and strange servants. Alucard needed the people, needed humanity and he knew, in some small way, that the the world outside of the City had changed as well. Yet Alucard had never ventured outside of it, never willing to be too far from Dracula while he’d slept with the crissaegrim wedged in his heart.

Dracula had searched Alucard’s eyes for a moment and then smiled. Had placed his forehead against Alucard’s own and sighed. Kissed him gently.

Dracula carried them both back to the Cathedral before the fog cleared and the sun rose, a black cloud shielding pure red and blue streaking across the rapidly lightening sky. It was on the local news that night.

More and more those that remembered the history of Dracula, of the ones who had come before him, weren’t being sent to the asylum, but being heeded.

Even so after that, there was no word of the Brotherhood.

And yet, Alucard saw Echidna and Dracula talk often as she bowed, head pressed to the ground by Dracula’s feet as he returned to his vigil. Dracula often spoke at length and at the end Echidna nodded and then disappeared down to the lower levels of the castle to the City of the Damned.

The door required blood tribute and up until a few days ago, even with feeding off his father’s blood nightly, Alucard simply hadn’t had enough blood in him to spare to investigate.

And so he was relegated to the hallways and occasional rooms in the Bernhard Cathedral along the sixth floor, Dracula’s two throne rooms and two ballrooms. He spent most mornings in the chapel, or what was left of it, down on the ground floor, watching the creatures rebuild and repair the cathedral, bit by bit.

Dracula had, he noted, taken his armour that he’d worn to serve Zobek and installed it by the door to the lower throneroom where he’d divested himself of it. Looking at it, Alucard wondered if Dracula would ever give it a mind of it’s own. He wouldn’t doubt it was possible with all of the other creatures that lived or gravitated to the castle, drawn by the strength of Dracula’s blood and Alucard himself by extension.

Dracula’s army grew daily.

  
  
  


 

Eventually Alucard had taken to sitting on Dracula’s throne, watching his father keep his vigil while he himself remained from the light of the moon and the sun, nothing but a pair of yellow eyes and hair that blended with the quickly clearing cobwebs and then the moonlight and dust motes.  On the rare occasions Dracula looked over at him, his father squinted and the corner of his lips lifted.

Alucard wondered if it was because he couldn’t see (surely not) or because the figure Alucard struck was somewhat unnerving all in his own right. Slowly Alucard started to loose all resemblance to a human while Dracula remained the same. Pristine and flushed with blood, even when he gave half of his own to Alucard.

If Dracula smiled each time he looked, it was because he saw the way Alucard was changing in various small ways, and Alucard knew nothing of it, still and determined to watch Dracula as he was, trying to out-wait him.

“What...are you planning?” Alucard asked on his third day of not moving from the throne, watching Dracula shift with the sun and the moonlight alternatively. Neither of them slept, though Alucard was nearing the end of his ability to remain awake. He hadn’t taken any of his father's blood, hadn’t spoken or done so much as twitch a finger for three days, somehow entranced and perfectly entertained by watching his father even as he did nothing but stand and watch the city himself.

He would have never been able to out-wait him.

The moonlight was bright enough to glint off Dracula’s eyes as he looked over at Alucard. He smiled a little, though his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, not in a squint, but in contemplation. If was a change to the same look he’d been giving Alucard every few hours, noting Alucard’s changes.

When Dracula spoke his voice was smooth. There was no hoarseness from disuse, unlike Alucard’s. It was entirely conversational, light and airy. “I am…considering this,” he said, voice low, and gestured to the city. The streetlights reflected off his long nails and the leather of his coat sleeve.

Alucard blinked slowly, long lashes brushing along his cheeks. “Yes. For several months now,” Alucard intoned dryly, fingers twitching a little. He roused himself little by little, three days of not moving, of simply watching, having apparently dissociated his mind from his body in a way. He’d forgotten how he’d ached in some small ways, and how he was hungry yet again and how he was tired.  

Dracula chuckled. “All this,”  he said, waving his hand roughly at the City beyond the window, holding Alucard’s gaze, “is mine.”

If Alucard hadn’t already been as still as death he would have paused all on his own. The answer was not hard to read into, to guess along what lines Dracula thought now.

“It _was_ ,” Alucard said slowly. “It’s not yours anymore.”

“They built their homes _in_ my castle,” Dracula said, turning to pace, his coat swaying as he did, eyes bright, glowing from an inner light not provided by the moonlight. “Not the land around my castle, but in my castle. Zobek was a citizen of this...city that it has become,” he said, voice tightening, the force behind his words growing.

Alucard remained silent, watching Dracula, dark lips thinning.

“They know I have returned. Do you think they ignored the battle we had with Satan, the large dent on the streets outside? Last year I broke this window myself and plummeted to the street left my own dent. The Bioquimek Corp outbreak instilled a martial law and I spent more time than I should have tracking every creature of Satan I could and killing it,” he said forcefully, pacing more rapidly, slipping in and out of the shadows as he did.

“I can hear them talking, hear them leaving by the droves. They are remembering,” Dracula continued.

“The humans,” Alucard clarified.

Dracula snorted. “Yes, the humans,” he said, derisive. “Gods creatures.”

Alucard narrowed his eyes a little. “Do you remember mother?” he asked.

Dracula paused in his pacing, stood with his back to Alucard, hands dropping to his sides. Half in the shadows, half out. As ever.

It was a long time before Dracula replied, and before then the belltower on the Cathedral chimed four in the morning.

“Yes, I remember.”

Alucard was silent for a while, then, “I will give you true death,” he repeated. Promised. “So you can be with her again.”

Dracula looked up at the wall, at the statues hidden in the shadows. “And what am I meant to do in the meantime?” Dracula asked, quietly, turning to look over at Alucard. “Satan is dead, Zobek is dead. Victor and all of the Brotherhood, as far as we know, are dead.”

Alucard looked down at his lap and his hands tightened on the arms of the throne. He was right. There had been no word on the street about the Brotherhood. Nothing on the news, and nothing in the hidden places they had once been.  

If the Brotherhood still existed, and if Victor had ever had a child that had been trained by them, if there were ever any other Belmonts to come, then the task of destroying Dracula would come to Alucard.

And Alucard…

Loved his father too much.

Loved him the wrong way.

Alucard would never be able to kill him.

He stared at his lap for a long, long time. Eventually he blinked and looked up, only a little, and Dracula was standing before him, his knees almost against Alucard’s own. Nothing but a black mass and red, glowing eyes.

He felt Dracula’s fingertips slide through his hair. The only sounds between them for some time were the sounds of the arms of the throne groaning under the pressure of Alucard’s fingers. The sound of sirens. Laughter.

A low, deep growl that echoed through the whole room. That stirred the wrought iron chandeliers above.

Pressure of the Dragon again.

“What…then?” Alucard gasped after a while as he looked up at his father. “You’re going to drive the humans out?” he asked, yellow eyes rolling back in his head a little. Dracula slid his hand over Alucard’s cheek gently, nails scraping Alucard’s oddly smooth skin.

Alucard hadn’t eaten in three days and he was so, so hungry. Hungry in ways he’d hoped he’d never have to feel again. He hadn’t been so a moment ago. It had been ignorable a moment ago when Dracula hadn’t been touching him, gazing at him with all of his will and intent. All of his power.  

Amusement flooded the air like a scent, a pressure. With it the anger at the creatures of god living in the dragon’s domain. Alucard’s heart hurt at the feeling, his body ached, back arching, head tipping back. His father was in so much pain, was so twisted, and...Alucard wasn’t sure he could do this alone. Wasn’t sure he could deny himself his father’s love, his father’s blood.

Wasn’t sure he could ever resist this sensation.

Dracula’s love and trust, his will to share all of his emotions with Alucard as he was doing in that moment.

“I’m going to take it back, Alucard,” Dracula said, voice echoing and deep, some darker, larger force behind it.

Alucard swallowed thickly. Managed to concentrate enough to blink and then look up at the ceiling, at Dracula, pressing his face into the hand that caressed his cheek. “What will happen to the humans?”

“There are other humans. This city isn’t the only one, you know that. The Brotherhood may have retreated to another city,” came the bland reply.

Alucard stared up at his father, at the hatred and cold, vicious intent.

One way or another if the humans stayed, they would die. Dracula was going to start building his army and taking over the land again.

“The humans will rise up against you.” Alucard said, swallowing thickly, unable to look away from Dracula’s eyes and their bright, burning lure.

Dracula tilted his head. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

Alucard’s mouth worked wordlessly.

What he wanted.

What...did he want.

He didn’t want his father to die. Didn’t want to lose...this.

Thoughts turned inwards, he broke his gaze with Dracula and let his gaze drift down, eyes wide. Panic threatened to rise. Some small part of him was horrified, was…

What did he want?

Dracula slid his fingers under Alucard’s chin, made Alucard look up at him again. caught and held his eyes on his own, face so close to Dracula’s he could feel his breath against his lips. Feel the heat of his stolen blood.

“What is it, then?” Dracula prompted gently, quiet as a whisper.

Alucard blinked rapidly, started by his voice. By Dracula’s dark hair grazing his cheeks.  

Alucard shuddered. He moved, finally, taking his hand off the arms of the chair and reaching for Dracula, his hands cupping Dracula’s face, fingertips sliding over his stubble back up into his hair. His lips pressed to Dracula’s gently.  “I want...a war....against god,” he breathed, fascinated with Dracula’s eyes, with the way the weight of the dragon pressed down on him, pinned him and slid through him. Permeated him. Became him. “A war...so brutal that if the Brotherhood is dead, then they will have to start themselves again.”

Dracula only smiled, slow and satisfied.

  
  
  
  


Three years later, on the first day of winter, Dracula walked to the doors of the Bernhard Cathedral and pushed them open.

He walked out into the street, cars screeching to a halt around him. Jumped on the first car that couldn’t stop in time, blowing out the windows as he stepped up onto the roof and raised his arms. He tipped his head back and smiled up at the sky as the last light of dusk fled.

The ground rumbled and Alucard remained unmoving as the City of the Damned burst up through the entirely of the castle, of the city itself, and spilled out into the streets like a flood.  

Alucard closed his eyes and lowered his head.

Remained in the doorway to the Cathedral.

“Kill them!” Dracula cried, looking back down at his subjects, his twisted fiefdom of creatures as they flowed around him, crawled up buildings and smashed through windows, their numbers innumerable. “Do not rest until every single last servant of God is dead or turned!” Dracula cried, turning into a large, swirling mass of darkness, growing wings that splayed wide enough to almost encompass the entire Cathedral itself, rising up into the sky and circling high above the city. The sky darkened as if welcoming him.

Screams pierced the air. Shrieks of pain and of bloodlust. The smell of blood and fear.

Alucard shook, eyes opened, lips parting.

As when Dracula’s gaze had fallen on him when he’d been within the city-limits, now his gaze roamed wider, and yet Alucard still felt weak, intoxicated.

He looked out onto the street and saw the humans fleeing, screaming. Coming towards him.

“Please!” a woman cried, running to him, covered in soot and rubble. Somewhere down the street a car exploded, the heat and gush of wind reaching Alucard even where he stood, knocking the woman’s balance a little, sending her careening into a wall.

The dragon above screeched and then dove down. The very earth itself trembled, skyscrapers in the distance tilting and them falling, clouds of debris rising with the piercing roar of Dracula’s rage.

“Please,” the woman begged, scrambling towards him still, hair limp and scorched. “Why are you doing this?” she cried, looking up at him.

Alucard stared at her, black lips parting a little.

The streetlights flickered out at the lines snapped, creatures squealing with joy at succubi pulled men from buildings and tossed them down to the street below.

“Because it has to be done,” Alucard replied, voice barely audible over the sounds of massacre, eyes glowing in the din of the cathedral.

She sobbed, and reached him, clung to him, kept herself standing with her hands fisted in Alucard’s coat.

It was the first time a human had touched him since his own son, since Simon had…

He blinked, horror rising in him, and he settled his hands on her shoulders.

“What did we do?” she asked, shaking. “We thought….he was keeping us safe…” she said. “We thought….we had refuge here.”

Alucard shook his head slowly. It was a rumour he’d heard before. Cultists had spread in the last few years, praising Dracula as they had Satan before him.

“There is no safety here,” Alucard whispered, wiping the tear from her face, her skin feeling like sandpaper under his own odd skin. “God’s gaze does not reach all who dwell within the shadow of Dracula,” he said gently.

Somewhere behind Alucard, a ghoul grunted, coming up behind him, several others with it.

“I warned everyone,” Alucard said, shaking his head, pain in his voice. He’d done his best to reach the Brotherhood, had spoken to the preachers released from the asylums who still believed in Dracula. “I warned that those who stayed would be martyred,” he added.

Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. “We---we heard nothing…”

Darkness swept over the cathedral and the ground shuddered. A moment later Dracula stood just behind the woman, chin and chest coated with blood.

“Why?” the woman asked, hysterical, pulling at Alucard, unable to move him. “Why are you doing this?!”

“Because this is not. Your. City,” Dracula growled from behind her, rushing up and tearing her from Alucard, ignoring her screams as she flailed and fought, pulling her neck to the side and tearing at her throat.

Alucard took a step back as he watched, sabatons clicking against the marble of the cathedral entrance, lips parting. he watched as the woman’s life drained from her and Dracula cast her aside, panting and wiping at his chin and jaw, straightening, bright, glowing eyes focusing of Alucard.

“Father,” Alucard breathed.

Whatever panic he’d felt before fled, and he smiled a little, watching Dracula pant and spin in a circle, surveying the chaos. He turned his eyes back to Alucard, and then the ghouls behind him, pressed as low to the floor as they could in subservience.

“Fight,” Dracula ordered, looking at Alucard. His expression turned amused after a moment as the ghouls behind Alucard crept closer to him, touched at Alucard’s legs reverently.

“Yes...father,” Alucard breathed, his body beginning to move on it’s own, hand falling to his waist as his blood rushed around him, clothing him in his armour and long coat. He drew his crissaegrim. He blurred, turned into a streak of black, flying up into the air and over to the roof of the building on the other side of the street.

He paused there, looking down at Dracula, at the ghouls as they rushed to follow Alucard, drawn by the power of his blood, of his presence so similar but different to Dracula’s own, willing to obey him.

Dracula smiled up at him and then dispersed, leaving the street empty.

Alucard turned his eyes on the city and surveyed the carnage.

 _Make the Brotherhood take heed_ , came Dracula’s voice, slithering through his skull sending a shiver up Alucard’s spine.

"Yes," Alucard agreed. 

They would notice indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested come and talk with me on Tumblr: iamcreepstakes.tumblr.com. 
> 
> I usually keep everyone updated on what I'm doing on Twitter though: @creepstakes


	4. Chapter 4

If at any point Alucard felt guilt for the destruction of the City such feeling was swept beneath the knowledge that he had, at the very least, tried.

He had not lied to the woman.

He’d gone to the preachers, to the formerly mad, and told them to leave.

Alucard had simply appeared in their houses and stared at them until they took notice, not because he meant to frighten them but because after so, so long he didn’t remember how humans greeted each other beyond overly familiar hugs and slaps on shoulders. When Alucard had been human, it had been a manner of a bow. Sometimes a handshake.

In this case they deserved neither and so he offered them no greeting.

Dracula saw them as peasants now, something to be crushed for his expanding kingdom. Alucard saw humans, saw people. However over the years a rift formed. It had started under his service to Zobek and had only quickened once he’d started taking his father’s blood.

So yes, he’d appeared in their homes, nothing but white hair and golden eyes peering out from the shadow. He’d told them, “Leave this place and take all of God’s flock with you.”

Mostly they had only shrieked and pressed themselves to walls on the floor, had scrambled away from him, terrified.

But two remained, breathing quickly, frozen in place. They had nodded, once Alucard remained and stared, waiting for a reply.

Soon after Alucard had left, moved on to the next house, darkness dawned on the men in form of beautiful women.

“What did the wolf tell you?” they asked, cooing and slipping into the preacher’s and the madmen’s beds alike. They wooed all Alucard had warned with their open arms and welcoming warmth. “Pay it no heed, our Lord Dracula means you no harm.”

The ones who refused, who believed Alucard’s warnings and chose to instead resist the succubi, were held down and made a meal of.

The survivors turned into Dracula’s cultists.

Thus Alucard’s warnings met no ears but those who were turned against humanity itself.

Alucard had gone into the purge that day confident that he could excuse his own actions, but under the gaze of the Dragon, the pressure in Alucard’s skull doubled some and he watched himself, a witness to his own body. He killed what humans managed to reach the outer suburbs of the City. If any escaped it was because they used the tunnels below Victor’s church, but even those were flushed out and the humans killed.

It took a month for the city to be razed to the ground, until only the old structures of the castle remained. Then Dracula ordered his castle returned to its former glory.

No longer was it the City. Now it was Castle Dracula once again.

Eventually, things became more familiar to Alucard and Dracula. Technology was swept away and replaced with the simplicity of old and the City of the Damned expanded beneath them, spilling into the valley below the clif-face of the barren plain the castle lived on.

King and Prince though they were their more informal titles remained ‘Lord’. Over time Dracula came to prefer and demand it rather than ‘royal highness’. Alucard loathed the way the creatures that followed him called him ‘Master’, and ‘Prince’. The ghouls themselves, the animated suits of armours left by the Brotherhood of old, came to know him as Lord Alucard, eventually, and followed him reverently.

When he went walking at night, wolves dogged his steps, watching with bright eyes. They never called him anything, but those werewolves that could speak called him Lord Alucard.

Others followed suit eventually, though sometimes he caught Dracula glaring at those who called Alucard anything but ‘Prince’.

“Would you have me be the Prince of Darkness, then, as you were?” Alucard asked softly one night, divested of armour and instead clothed in fine cloth. They stood at the entrance to the City of the Damned, facing each other before the sealed door as Dracula rolled up his sleeve to bare his wrist, pushing his coat back.

“It is what you are, Alucard,” Dracula said, red eyes flashing as he looked up at him briefly, biting into his wrist and tearing at it. Blood gushed and for a moment Alucard was overtaken with a burning hunger. “It’s what I made you to be,” he continued, jerking Alucard out of his trance.

Dracula disappeared into the City of the Damned before Alucard could follow, the floor itself moving away, leaving only a pit of lava too long for Alucard to jump. Once Alucard could have opened the door himself and entered, but not now. Now his father’s blood was too precious inside him and though he knew his father was hiding things from him, many things, he let it be.

Stared as Dracula’s blood slowly drained away from the mechanism, fingers twitching against his sides.

Still he was hungry and the wait for Dracula to return from the City of the Damned dragged on longer than anticipated. Even with the various animated knight armours around the castle Alucard used to sharpen his skills with his sword, he was still left wondering and aching. He had nothing to do but wait until his father granted him his blood, and he was not one to ask, only to take what was given.

He’d survived this hunger for hundreds of years and he would continue to do so, no matter that it seemed a thousand times stronger now that’s he’d accustomed himself to his father’s blood.

“M’lord,” came a rough voice over the clang of steel. Once Alucard would have been panting with effort, as would the man of the armour, had they been alive. Now all that remained was the breath needed to laugh and speak, to make any small sound at all, always purposeful. It was strange how once the need to breathe was removed, effort seemed a thing of the past, and strength seemed to come quicker.

Alucard raised his sword in a block, and paused at the voice, hair swinging as he stilled.

The knight armour shuddered to a stop along with him, lance still extended, then straightened to stand at attention, shield and lance held by its side. Alucard nodded and brought his sword up before him, pressed his forehead to his blade, his hand holding the hilt at chin-level in a salute. The knight armour nodded.

Lowering his sword Alucard looked down at the creature who had interrupted them, a hunchback of some sort that crawled over the walls and ceilings, and leapt over chandeliers when given the chance.

“Lord Dracula begs you attend him,” the creature said, bowling and waving an arm behind itself, down the hall.

“He’s returned from below, then?” Alucard asked, turning to face the creature, sliding his sword into the scabbard at his waist.

The creature surveyed Alucard, then nodded, eyes dropping to the floor. “Yes, he has. Please, Lord Alucard, his temper could be much improved.”

Alucard remained still a moment then looked over at the knight, at the large ballroom he stood in the center of, several creatures watching from the upper floor. “Then I must take my leave,” he announced, watching most of the creatures bow to him. He’d long since stopped finding their company an eerie imitation of human behaviour. Their respect for hierarchy and politeness in Alucard’s presence was strange and sometimes Alucard wondered if it wasn’t Dracula’s doing.

Alucard walked to the hunchback, kept his eyes forward as the creature skittered along slightly ahead of him. “Take me to him then.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

Dracula’s chambers had since moved. Shifted to another wing of the castle newly built. It was high up, large and filled with red candles and Maria’s sarcophagus. There were many bookshelves in there besides, and the Master Librarian, perhaps one of the few humans allowed inside the castle, tended to come and go as he pleased.

Now however, Dracula stood beside the man and looked furious, though some of the rage was leached from him as he looked up and noted Alucard’s entry. He focused again on the Master Librarian, eyes glowing faintly, and gestured, pointing vaguely. “I have more pressing business than the dwarf. Perhaps it needs to be removed from its shop a while and returned to its cell.”

The librarian only nodded and shied back. He was an older man with long white hair and a long beard, dressed in sombre burgundy robes. The serious expression he wore rarely faded. “Of course. I’ll leave it to you, m’lord,” he said, and stepped back turned to head for the door.

“Lord Alucard,” he greeted quietly as he left, closing the door behind himself, leaving Alucard staring at his father. The both of them were alone in the cavernous room with nothing but the sound of crackling candles and the occasional howl reaching them through the open windows by Dracula’s bed.

The moon was large and yellow, hung low on the horizon, newly-risen.

Alucard watched his father for a while, remaining still, hair catching the light of the moon, almost making his pale skin glow where it was visible against his dark clothes.

Dracula turned and shook his head paced a while, then pulled his jacket off, his shirt going with it. “I hate the chupacabra,” he growled, rolling his shoulders as he balls up his clothes.

Alucard’s lips quirked a little. “So that’s what he was complaining about then.”

“It stole another rare book, the librarian was beside himself. They fight constantly for business, I have no idea how the chupacabra gets past the gate but every time its shop runs out of stock it goes to the Master Librarian and steals what the man has. Leaving me to deal with it,” Dracula growled, throwing his jacket and shirt aside, letting it fall to the floor beside the chair he’d been half-heartedly aiming for.

Alucard couldn’t help but stare at his father’s back, at the newly bared skin. He was pale to some degree, as much as any vampire was, but flushed even so, and his muscles shifted beneath his skin as he moved, walking from the main room and into the inner sanctum of his chambers where his bed was housed.

Alucard followed him, drawn by the sight, by the flush under his skin, and the familiar caress of Dracula’s influence, his blood. He needed it.

“Had I the ability to go below myself, I would sort such things out myself,” Alucard said, watching as the rest of Dracula’s clothes shed themselves in a rush of blood, leaving his father bare before him.

Dracula snorted, sat on the edge of the bed and held out a hand for Alucard, who hovered to the side a moment before going to him, offering his hand for Dracula to take to reel him closer.

He cupped his father’s cheek, stared down at him, into his eyes. His skin was hot, warm under his fingers, and Dracula almost shuddered at his touch.

“You would have to drink from me more often for that,” Dracula said, and smiled faintly. “Every night. Deeply. Now, at least, you don’t pass out when you drink, but you only take as much as you need.”

“How much do you drink then that your skin almost looks human?” Alucard asked quietly, his fingertips sliding down to Dracula’s neck and then his shoulder. He lifted his arms after a moment so that Dracula could pull his shirt from his trousers, and ease it over his head, leaving his white hair to cascade down his chest after, to fall against his back.

Dracula placed a hand on Alucard’s chest and contemplated a moment, humming. When he looked up his eyes were glowing and his lips were quirked in some sort of wry amusement. “I wonder, sometimes, if I give you too much would you become the part of me I deny? I thought I’d killed that part of me, but I can’t kill what I am. It’s still there. I still want...to be the lesser evil.”

Alucard leaned back a little, tilted his head, well aware his father had ignored the question. “The first time I drank from you it might have almost been too much. But now I am fine, I remain awake, I have...healed some,” Alucard said, looking down at himself, at his chest and Dracula’s hand on it. “You have no control over me, father, I won’t be corrupted by your blood. I promise you that.”

Dracula’s eyes dropped after a moment and he pressed his face to Alucard’s chest, made him shudder a little with the way his breath, when he went to speak, felt hot against his skin. He even breathed like a human, these days. “I...have no control over you?” Dracula said, kissing at Alucard’s chest, moving to lick at one of his nipples, smoothing his hand over Alucard’s stomach, nails scraping his pale skin gently.

Alucard breathed a moan gently, the sound slipping from his lips. The scrape of Dracula’s beard against his skin hovered between pleasure and pain as he closed his mouth over one of Alucard’s nipples, sucked and pulled at it with his flat front teeth as he worked Alucard’s pants open, pulling at the cords that held them together.

“My good boy,” Dracula breathed once he’d pulled back, drawing Alucard’s attention. Alucard pushed his white hair back over his shoulders and out of the way while he watched his father push his pants down his hips and suck on his nipple again. He watched the way Dracula lathed his tongue over his nipple a moment later, and be bit his lower lip, wanting to squirm.

Warm hands brushed against his hips and Dracula pushed his pants down, his hands caressing his thighs as he did, making Alucard sigh, wanting the heat of of his father’s touch and caress as much as he wanted his love and his blood.

“You could never do any wrong by me,” Dracula breathed, pulling off Alucard’s chest to look up at him red eyes shining.

Alucard’s skull felt like it was too small, like his mind was being squeezed more and more the longer he held that gaze.

“I... have done a lot of wrong things, father,” Alucard said, stepping out of his pants, stumbling a little, dazed as he held his father’s gaze. 

Dracula shook his head and smiled a little, pulled at Alucard’s hips until Alucard settled himself in his lap. “Always with good intentions,” Dracula breathed, leaning back, smoothing his hands up Alucard’s chest to his neck. They slid into Alucard’s hair and wound around the silver length close to Alucard’s skull, urging Alucard to remain up and tilting his head back a little.

Alucard closed his eyes and focused on the warmth of Dracula’s hands, his lips parting with a sigh as he caressed him, touched him, hands smoothing over his chest and waist, tracing his muscles.

Dracula drank in the sight like he was a dragon counting his gold, greedy and possessive.

Alucard felt...loved.

And when Dracula’s fingers wrapped around his cock, he felt desired. They squeezed gently and Alucard moaned, his arms rising to rest on Dracula’s shoulders, hips rocking a little. “Father,” he breathed, as the pleasure swept through him at the touch. That so little touch could feel so good was mind-numbing to him, even before his death it had never felt this good. 

“My beautiful boy,” Dracula said, voice low and hoarse, power resonating through it, the power of the dragon and the shadows, the night and blood, behind his words. Alucard winced at the return of the ache in his skull once again. “You can do no wrong,” Dracula murmured, hand slick around Alucard’s cock from his own precome.

Dracula’s thumb pressed to the underside of Alucard’s cock, rubbed against the base of the head, pinched, and Alucard gasped and rocked his hips a little, eyes opening a little, eyelashes catching the light of the moon and the candles.

“Father,” he gasped, then groaned as Dracula started moving his hand properly, stealing what air remained in his lungs, making him pant purely so he could moan and make sounds of pleasure for Dracula, and cover Dracula’s hand on his cock with his own to help him.

“Shh,” Dracula hushed, urging Alucard down again, turning his face up. He pressed his lips to Alucard’s and kissed him, lips and tongue hot against Alucard’s own, flushed with blood.

Alucard clutched him with his thighs and rocked, ground down into his lap.

“Father,” he gasped again, clinging to Dracula’s shoulders, clutching at him, weak as a babe and needing Dracula’s kiss, his affection, needing what pleasure he gave him, what blood he could offer him.

He needed blood he could taste it in Dracula’s skin and yet his father offered him none.

“Yes, Alucard?” Dracula asked, squeezing his cock a little, stroking him harder, faster.

Alucard cried out, rocked with his father’s hand. “Blood. Please.”

Dracula made a deep, satisfied sound. It came from so deep in his chest it was almost like a purr. It resonated around the room, distracted Alucard from the sound of the door opening, from the sound of footsteps and frantic breathing.

“You can do no wrong, my perfect son. I created you to be exactly what you are,” Dracula purred, shifting, one of his hands going to Alucard’s hips, sliding from his hair. He pulled Alucard up, urging him up on his knees as he laid back on the bed, removing himself from Alucard’s hold.

“Father,” he gasped, leaned forward.

Dracula took hold of his own cock, and he pressed the head of his cock against Alucard’s entrance, and Alucard gave a small sigh of relief before he sank himself down on it, moaning as he did. Dracula kept hold of his hair, his hand fisted in it at the nape of his neck, kept him up where he could see him, could watch Alucard’s expressions as he began to move slowly, holding himself up with an arm on Dracula’s chest, the other on the dark red sheets by Dracula’s head, fingers entwined in his dark hair. 

“Good boy,” Dracula groaned, lifting his legs up, rolling his hips up to meet Alucard each time he dropped down on his cock, his eyes glowing bright, fixed on Alucard’s expression, on the pleasure.

His praise made Alucard moan, and the heat of his cock almost brought Alucard to tears as he moved, breath forced from his lung each time Dracula’s cock pressed into him, made him jerk and groan with the pleasure of it, eyes falling half closed.

“You can do no wrong, Alucard,” Dracula moaned, and Alucard nodded and shuddered a little at his tone of voice. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Alucard groaned, mindless with pleasure, his hand clawing at Dracula’s chest, nails scraping along his heated skin, aching for the blood there. “Please father,” he gasped.

There was a whimper off to the side, somewhere in the room, and briefly Alucard was drawn into confusion. He opened his eyes and raised a hand to Dracula’s, curling long fingers around his wrist. “What…?”

Pain. Alucard winced and reeled a little, eyes rolling back. His entire head ached, felt like his head would burst, and the weight of the dragon pressed down on him, and all he could see was red eyes, and blood. Whited-out eyes and a monstrous face glaring at him. Like his father but contorted, something evil.

Then he blinked and it was only pleasure, making him cry out as Dracula’s hand closed around his cock again, as Dracula fucked him harder, pushing him down on his cock brushing against something utterly wonderful inside that had Alucard reeling for an entirely different reason. He groaned and focused on the heat, on his father’s cock, on his love, rocking into his hand and back onto his cock, lost to all else.

“Father,” he gasped the image forgotten.

“Yes,” Dracula growled, from somewhere beneath him, though Alucard couldn’t open his eyes long enough to see him, and all sense of the world but for Dracula disappeared. “No one could judge you now, Alucard. My good boy. You’ve fought so hard for me, and you can continue fighting for me, with me,” Dracula said.

“Yes,” Alucard moaned. The desire had been a slow building thing. From the moment he’d seen Dracula to the moment he’d begun taking his blood, his intentions had been always to kill him, to kill his father. But since then, his desires had changed, and his love for him had only grown, his desire.

He had been lost until recently, and now all that remained was his father, was Dracula.

“You can do no wrong,” Dracula moaned, grunting, and Alucard opened his eyes, saw his father looking up at him, hair sticking to his temples a little with effort.

“Not by you,” Alucard groaned, his hair falling down around Dracula’s face, shielding them somewhat.

“Yes,” Dracula moaned, and rocked his hips harder, made Alucard arch and cry out at the sudden shock of pleasure. “Even if I ask you to kill Juste Belmont, and you do it, you can do no wrong,” he breathed.

Alucard panted and nodded weakly, watching his father, aching suddenly needing to come. “Yes,” he breathed, then frowned. “Who?”

Dracula pulled Alucard down, and finally he was close enough for Alucard to kiss and touch properly, and he cupped his father’s face, kissed him hungrily as Dracula wrapped his arms around him and held him close.

It was hot, the heat of his embrace was overwhelming.

Alucard’s eyes rolled back and he shook as he let himself be kissed and held and fucked, his body tensing as his orgasm slammed into him. Unable to scream around Dracula’s kiss, he could only hold on and suffer through it delightfully as Dracula fucked him harder and then came himself with a growl, one of his hands holding Alucard’s head to his and his other gripping Alucard’s ass.

Eventually the pleasure cleared and Alucard was left splayed over Dracula as his father panted, and Alucard remained unbreathing and floating in his own mind, satisfied and feeling light as a feather.

The two guards in the room, dishonoured vampires, held a sobbing human woman by the bed. She was clothed, and serviceably clean, and Dracula looked over at her as he slid his hands through Alucard’s hair, gathering it at the nape of his neck and pushing it to one side so Alucard could see her.

“Juste Belmont,” Dracula said, murmuring, watching Alucard as he opened his eyes, and revealed shining red irises in place of gold, “is the next in line of the Belmont clan. This is his mother, Victor’s wife.”

Alucard pushed himself up. Still he remained straddling Dracula, his cock still inside him. He was loathe to lose the heat of his father so soon when his body still trembled from the force of their joining.

“Oh God,” the woman cried, looking up at him, shaking with terror.

The two dishonored vampires standing either side of her, holding one of her arms each, lowered their gazes, wary of Alucard’s red eyes, of what it meant after Alucard had, for so long, been drinking a steady diet of nothing but Dracula's blood until it became his very being.

“Do you know where Juste is?” Alucard asked, taking his eyes from the woman and looking down at Dracula, meeting his father’s gaze.

Dracula smiled and caressed Alucard’s thighs, pleased with what he saw. “Of course. He’s just outside of my gates, an army of the Brotherhood with him,” he said, almost purring.  “It’s why I took his mother, to draw him here so that we could kill him.”

Alucard paused and frowned, his eyes dropping to Dracula’s chest, hair spilling over one of his shoulders. Something skittered along the back of his mind, wounded and hurt, horrified.

“Please no,” the woman said, and then screamed and was silenced by one of the vampires holding her, a hand clamping over her mouth at Dracula’s glare.

“What is it, Alucard?” Dracula asked, caressing his chest and thighs.

Alucard blinked and looked at Dracula, then gave a small smile. “Nothing,” he said, leaning into Dracula’s touch. “I thought I’d forgotten something is all.”

Dracula smiled and sat up, shifting them both, pulling out of Alucard. It left him feeling empty and bereft, and yet he was stiff satisfied at the same time. He hadn’t taken any of his father’s blood, but the hunger had eased. Everything felt right.

“Listen,” Dracula said, easing Alucard down onto the bed and slipping off the side of it, leaving Alucard splayed out, watching him as he moved about, ignoring the woman. “This world needs me, and I cannot allow them to kill me,” he said.

Alucard pushed himself up and rested on his elbows while he watched Dracula clothe himself again, blood magic swirling around him until he was wearing his dark pants and his coat again.

“So we must put an end to those remaining of our clan,” Dracula continued, smiling at Alucard. “Can you do that for me, while I deal with the brotherhood?” he asked.

“Juste Belmont,” Alucard surmised, rising, slipping from the bed and clothing himself with his blood magic, leaving him in his armour and his long coat.

“And her,” Dracula said, pointing at the woman, whose eyes widened.

Alucard bowed his head a little, face cast in shadows from his hair, and smiled a little, dark lips turning up. “Of course, father,” he murmured, and pulled his sword from its scabbard at his side.

Dracula smiled softly. “Good boy.”

 

 

Juste was a boy all of twenty, whose blue eyes widened at the sight of Alucard stalking through the swathes of dead soldiers, boots crushing plate armour beneath his heels, white hair stirring in the wind, untouched by the grime of battle.

Screams rose all around them as Dracula and his army worked their way through the Brotherhood, the night sky roiling with dark clouds and forks of lightning above. Juste’s scream had joined them as Alucard had ran him through with the crissaegrim.

“I see my son in you,” Alucard said, watching the blood spill from Juste’s lips, their eyes locked together.

Juste coughed violently and grunted, brought a hand up to grip the blade of the crissaegrim buried in his chest. He shook and glared at Alucard, then spat at him. “Trevor Belmont,” he spat, life fading quickly. “You are a traitor to the Brotherhood and the Belmont clan...and so…you are...condemned...”

Alucard twisted his blade and Juste screamed again. Some of the soldiers turned their attentions towards them at the scream, but they were quickly distracted by Alucard’s werewolves.

“I pray to God that you have no child,” Alucard said quietly, pushing Juste’s pale hair away from his eye, holding the blade steady increasingly bearing the boy's weight as he sagged more and more. “Because Dracula is ours,” he said, eyes glowing a deep red, bright enough to glint off Juste’s armour. “And he will not leave us again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand done! 
> 
> However...I won't deny that I haven't thought of the possibility of a sequel or something. 
> 
> I honestly don't agree with how Dracula killed the demented part of himself in the game. I think he just ignored it and it slowly took him over. I really hope you guys picked up on the way Dracula had been brainwashing Alucard through the whole fic. (Was it obvious enough? *bites nails* I get so nervous about those sorts of things when I write.)
> 
> Lastly I just want to say thank you to everyone for reading, and for the wonderful comments, they make me want to write more and more, you're all so kind. I love you. <3


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